"The first step toward change is awareness. The second step is acceptance." – Nathaniel Branden

Accepting

"That," Brennan commented as they sat down across from each other at the diner, "was a very impressive display of your shooting prowess."

He thought of the far more complicated shots he'd made in his sniper days and chuckled, "I qualified."

"Quite impressively," she repeated with an encouraging smile. "You must have practiced."

"Maybe I got lucky," he waggled his eyebrows.

"Because you wished on a gold coin found at the end of a rainbow?" she rolled her eyes.

He smiled, "Maybe. Or maybe it's because you were there with me."

"I'm your friend, Booth," she smiled back, shaking her head, "not a talisman."

"It worked," he grinned, thinking about Gordon Gordon's theory.

"You were less agitated this time," she rationalized, sipping her coffee. "No doubt because of the extra practice."

"Bones," he laughed, "why are you so hung up on the practicing angle?"

He'd been teasing, but he caught the serious look in her eyes just before she ducked her head and became extremely interested in the pock-marked table.

"Hey," he said softly, "is something wrong, Bones?"

She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes and without a second thought he covered her hand with his own on the top of the table.

"The truth?" he coaxed gently.

Slowly, her gaze rose to meet his.

"The truth," she repeated as if gathering courage, "is that since your return you have taken to attributing problems that have nothing to do with your tumor to the tumor, and you ignore the simple solution in favor of the more complex."

"Like the fact that I'm getting older and need more practice sometimes?" he tested her.

"Precisely," she all but sighed in relief.

He leaned in close, putting his elbows on the table and smiled, "I agree."

"You do?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "the shooting thing had nothing to do with my tumor."

There was a triumphant gleam in her eyes and all of the concern he'd read there earlier fled.

"We're the center," she echoed his words from so long ago; squeezing the hand that still lay atop hers.

He squeezed back, "And the center must hold."